


And You're Thinking Maybe We Ain't That Young Anymore

by Metro_Gnome



Category: The Breakfast Club (1985)
Genre: English teacher John Bender, Falling In Love, Fluff, Future Fic, Gym teacher Andrew Clark, Happy Ending, How Do I Tag, I don't know how being a teacher works but like we're just rolling with it, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Teacher AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:55:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24596374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metro_Gnome/pseuds/Metro_Gnome
Summary: There are some people who say high school is the best years of your life. Andy always thought that was bullshit. Who would want to go back to homework and tests and nothing making sense?❀ ❀ ❀Years after the events of that fateful detention, Andy and Bender meet again. They're both a little older, a little wiser, and a little more lonely. Maybe they've got more in common than they thought.
Relationships: John Bender/Andrew Clark
Comments: 7
Kudos: 39





	And You're Thinking Maybe We Ain't That Young Anymore

**Author's Note:**

> Am I writing fanfiction 35 years after this movie came out? Yes. Am I ashamed of myself? Also yes. Enjoy your stay. 
> 
> Every April, like clockwork, for reasons I cannot understand, I am gripped by the urge to rewatch the breakfast club, and every April I am filled with... emotion. So, as per usual, I rewatched, then found a plot diagram in my notebook from last April, sat down, and accidentally wrote 7k words. 2 months and a lot of editing later, here we are.

There are some people who say high school is the best years of your life. Andy always thought that was bullshit. Who would want to go back to homework and tests and nothing making sense? But, now he was beginning to see the appeal. At least in high school everything is set up for you; sure, there’s the stress of what you’re going to do with your life, but looking back, Andy realizes that going in the right direction was as simple as keeping his grades up and making sure he never missed a practice.

Now, he’s sitting in an office he still vaguely recognizes—in the middle of January—and he's managing to fit a mid-life crisis in the time it takes for the nice receptionist to get someone from the next room over. Mid-life crisis, assuming he’d die at 74. Not a bad run, but he’s hoping to see 90. The door opens. 

A petite woman walks in, looking lovely in a classy pink leather jacket and pencil skirt. She looks around her 40s. There are smile lines around her dark eyes. Her hair is thick and falls to her shoulders, and the pale jacket offsets her deep brown skin in a way that says she knows exactly what she's doing with this whole fashion business. Andy suddenly feels very self-conscious of the crummy suit he’s had for the last 20 years. It’s still got shoulder pads. Very dated. Really, Andy probably looks dated. Maybe he did peak in the 80s. 

“Andrew, right?” The woman asks.

“Yes, ah, that’s me.” Andy stands and shakes her offered hand. 

“I’m Lana, principal here at Shermer High School. I hear you’re an alumnus here?”

Andy laughs.

“Yeah. Yeah, class of…” he trails off, focused for a moment on her dangly silver earrings (that perfectly match the hardware of her jacket), “’85.” 

She smiles. Her teeth are perfect. Andy is more and more intimidated.

“Well, we’re glad to have you back. Come with me, I’ll give you the grand tour.”

She turns and walks briskly out of the office, high heels clicking. Andy allows himself one moment to stop and laugh at how incredibly different she is from Vernon. Then he trails behind her.

“Our last gym teacher was a… strange man, to say the least. To put any rumours aside, he simply disappeared of his own free will mid-year, and reports say he was on the run from the law for identity theft. So as long as you’re not a wanted criminal… you’re going to be a breath of fresh air,”

She flashes him a perfect smile. Andy scoffs out a laugh.

“Yeah, I think I can do that.”

They keep walking.

“And finally, here is one of our English rooms.”

The room is in the same spot as Andy remembers, which makes it even more jarring when he walks in and it’s the opposite of everything it used to be. Miss. Dodds, he recalls, was a terrible, hawklike woman who decorated her classroom with dry literary quotes and posters of William Shakespeare. She once kept Andy from and A on an essay he’d worked on for weeks due to a single missing period. Whoever runs this classroom seems like the kind of teacher who’d give you a call on a snow day just to make sure you were doing alright. It’s vibrant and messy and wholly welcoming. 

“I wanted to show you this, since the teacher who runs this class was also a student here,” Lana says.

“Really?” Andy asks, turning away from his admiration of the classroom to look back at her, “you wouldn’t happen to know the year they graduated?”

“’86 I do believe.”

Andy deflates a little, any kind of faint hope that it might have been someone he was friends with disappearing. 

“Ah,” he tries to hide his disappointment, “maybe I knew them.”

❀ ❀ ❀ 

Andy starts on Monday. He doesn’t have a class to teach until midway through the afternoon, but he gets there a little early to give himself time to refresh his memory. Also, possibly to check out the room where he had that detention and get a good hit of nostalgia. He hasn’t thought about those kids in years. Now, standing in front of the class of ’85 commemorative plaque, looking at his terrible hair and awkward smile, he remembers them.

He recalls Allison first. They lasted surprisingly long, though they hardly saw each other. Really, it barely counted as a relationship. Andy could probably count their meaningful kisses on two hands. Maybe a few toes. Claire he remembers most clearly after he ended up taking her to prom because she and Bender broke up barely a week after they got together, which everyone saw coming. Andy probably is in no space to talk, but he didn't think any healthy relationship could be formed on the basis of mockery and some fucking gold earring. Not that he was jealous. Brian… Brian was the closest thing he could have called an actual friend. High fives in the hallways. The occasional word passed in the lunchroom as they walked to their separate cliques. Brian even tutored him in science one time when Andy was nearly failing. In return, Andy helped him with his re-do of the shop project. It was ugly as hell, but Andy had never seen Brian grin so bright when it worked. 

Bender was another can of worms. Every time he saw him Andy felt some kind of… something in the pit of his stomach. Anger, maybe. For Claire. He would never be met by anything other than a smarmy smile. He’d never admit it, but it drove him nuts every single time. He’s glad Claire and Bender never worked out. He can practically picture it now. Bender, trucker hat and beer in hand, side by side with an ageing Claire with caked-on makeup and cheap knockoff clothes, both yelling at some poor wretch of a kid who’d end up just like Bender. Andy feels bad for him, in retrospect. 

Thank god, before he can get any darker, the babbling of students jars him out of his thoughts. Is it lunch already? Shit, he better get a move on. He turns, fully intending to give an awkward but polite smile and scurry away, but he's stuck as soon as he makes eye contact with the teacher leading the gaggle. 

He is unmistakable. There is a brief moment of eye contact where neither is sure if they should acknowledge it or not. They could easily just let everything that happened in that detention die right there in the hallway. Andy speaks first.

“Bender?”

“Clark?” Bender parrots with a smirk on his face and an edge to his voice. For a moment he looks 17 again. 

Andy catches between rolling his eyes and smiling. His breath holds in his throat for a moment as they maintain very awkward and very tense eye contact. Bender’s class looks suitably confused. Bender seems to snap back to reality, turning to face the crowd of bemused students with a wry smile, then clasps his hands together in a way that looks so professor like that Andy almost laughs. 

“All right, enough of the dramatic reunion. Your task is to pick one of these faces,” Bender gestures to the wall behind him, “and write a short story about them. And if you do choose me, be sure to include the fact that I was a straight-A student.”

The class chuckles and filters towards the row of photographs. Andy moves to let them pass as Bender steps towards him. The beat of awkward silence that follows is excruciating. Andy is about to ask what on earth Bender is doing here, when realization dons on him. He closes his eyes, a vestige of a smile on his face. 

“Class of ’86. You were held back a year.”

Andy’s eyes open. Bender's brow furrows.

“Well, yes. Are we going to reminisce about my academic failings? Because that could take a while."

“The uh, the uh principal. Lana, she showed me one of the English rooms. She said that someone who went to Shermer taught. I asked what year they graduated, hoping, y’know… anyways. I thought it was a different person because… ’86."

Bender smiles lopsidedly. 

“Hoping for one of your jocky pals?”

Andy smiles at that, knowing it's a joke but continuing anyway. 

“Really... I don't know who I was hoping for, but…” he looks at Bender’s expression, and it’s confused and uncomfortable but also warm and. Fuck it. “I’m really glad it’s you.” 

Both of Bender’s eyebrows raise. He lets out a genuine chuckle, looking at the floor. 

“Well, I’m flattered sporto.”

The nickname diffuses the awkwardness somewhat. Andy grins. 

“I’ve got uh, a class to teach in,” Andy looks at his watch without actually checking it “a bit so. I should let you go.”

“Yes. Teacherly responsibilities and all that. I really shouldn’t have let these scoundrels run loose as long as I have,” Bender tosses a fond glance over his shoulder.

“Right. yes. Um,” Andy says. 

Bender looks back. 

“Maybe we could… catch up sometime?” Andy finishes.

Bender smiles, and it’s that smarmy smile that still, to this day, drives Andy nuts.

“Never too late to make amends, huh Andrew?”

Andy rolls his eyes, but he thinks that’s a yes. 

“Sure. I’m the one who has to make amends.”

Bender seems delighted by Andy’s snark. 

“Well, I’m free today. Best to do this in a place where we can escape if the awkwardness is too much. You know where my class is.”

With that, Bender turns around. Andy blinks. Then he awkwardly scurries into the maze of hallways. 

❀ ❀ ❀ 

Bender is lounging behind his desk when Andy gets there, feet up, intently squinting at a book in his hands. He looks up and grins as Andy enters. As he places his feet back on the floor, Andy has time to appreciate Bender’s change in fashion sense. He’s in a loose olive polo shirt and dark grey slacks, plus a pair of rather spunky looking dress shoes. His hair is still long, but now it looks less like not caring and more like a fashion statement. He could probably put it in a ponytail if the need arose, but thank goodness he doesn’t. He’s attractive, Andy supposes, though in a kind of worn-out way.

“Andrew. True to your word.” 

Andy smiles faintly. He glances at the book in Bender's hands.

“What are you reading?” He asks.

Bender looks at the cover in his hand like he needs reminding.

“The Picture of Dorian Gray. The kids are reading it this year, and I needed to refresh my memory.” 

The English classes Andy took were not the kind that assigned The Picture of Dorian Gray. 

“What’s it about?”

“You really do know how to charm an English teacher. Ask him about books,” Bender stands and lazily walks around his desk to lean on the front of it, arms crossed and briefly lost in thought, “Officially? It’s a gothic and philosophical novel about the supremacy of youth and beauty.” Bender gives him a wry smile, “In my opinion? It’s Oscar Wilde prosing on about the beauty of men for 224 pages.”

Andy barks a laugh. Bender's eyes crinkle.

“A riveting read, I’m sure,” says Andy. 

“Oh definitely.”

They stand in awkward silence. Andy props his hand against a student’s desk. There is a Dalek doodled on the corner of it. 

“So, uh, what do you think of 2006 so far?” Andy asks.

“Graceful change of conversation.”

“It's not that I don’t want to talk about books I know nothing about…” 

Bender laughs. 

“You asked!”

“And now I’m asking about 2006.”

The silence is thick, but not awkward. A clock ticks on the wall. 

“Things sure have changed,” Bender says, almost to himself.

“They really have.” Andy continues, not quite sure if he should say something or not, “The principal here seems nice. Better than Vernon.”

“That is an incredibly low bar.”

Andy shrugs with a smile. 

“Well, what have you done in the 20 or so years since I’ve seen you last?”

“Oh, you know. Got addicted to heroin. Robbed a bank. Kicked puppies.”

“Does the snark ever stop with you?”

Bender looks up at him with a grin. He absently pushes his hair back.

“Well… I got held back a year, you know that. I did graduate though. Remember the janitor? Took pity on me. Found me a tutor. I was no honour student, but I got through. Then…” he trails off. Andy appreciated his easy confidence. How he can pause and expect you to wait for him, “then I saved up. Worked fast food, odd jobs, got enough to move out. Lived in a place with seven roommates, met someone, moved in together, etcetera etcetera,” He motions with one hand as he talks, the other planted firmly on the desk, “broke up after five years, had an existential crisis, got my degree, by some miracle was offered a job at the same damn high school I went to, and I've been here ever since.” 

Andy is silent a moment, taking it all in. 

“How long have you worked here?”  
“This is my third year.”

“Wow.”

Silence. Bender shifts so he is now sitting on the edge of his desk. 

“And you? Make it big in the glamorous world of wrestling?”

Andy laughs abrasively. There is a touch of regret to it. 

“I did… I did well enough.”

“Not what I expected from someone currently working as a gym teacher.”

Andy gives him a glare with no menace. 

“I got injured. Couldn’t anymore. I did coach for a bit, until that didn’t work out. Then… bounced from doomed relationship to doomed relationship until I ended up with the bare minimum credentials to get me here.” 

Bender offers him a smile. 

“I don’t know if you got the memo, but you were the one who was supposed to end up happy and fulfilled, not me,” says Bender.

“Yeah. Guess I’m just starting the ‘existential crisis’ part of your journey to a happy ending.” 

Bender gives him a look that is entirely too earnest. 

“It gets better from here on.” He says simply.

Andy clears his throat awkwardly.

“So, are you? Happy and fulfilled?”

Bender gives a stretch and sighs out a “well…”

“I guess. Some things left to be desired, but what can you do.”

“What would you desire?”

“Someone to come home to. Maybe a nice car,” Bender replies quickly.

“So you want to settle down?”

“Well, I don’t think settling down would be an option for me. Don’t get me wrong, the single life is fine and all, it just gets a little lonely. And maybe I’m a romantic at heart.”

“You want some sort of big romantic gesture? Boombox outside your window playing your favourite song?”

Bender laughs self deprecatingly.

“Yeah, I guess I’m still a teenager at heart,” he looks up at Andy intensely, “and what do you want, Andrew?”

Andy has no fucking clue, but the way Bender said it makes him think that isn’t an option. He opens his mouth to speak— 

“Uh, Mr. Bender?”

Both of their heads swivel around to face the doorway. Standing there is one of Bender’s students, awkwardly clutching a binder to her chest. Andy watches Bender smile at her and knows that he’s the kind of teacher who cries at every single graduation. 

“What can I help you with, Cayley?”

“Um, uh, sorry to interrupt, but you said you could help me with this essay the other day and… uh… yeah.”  
“That I did,” Bender looks at Andy, “Well, it was good to catch up.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely. See you… see you around.”

Andy stands up and walks towards the door, giving Cayley a tight-lipped smile as he passes her.

“Oh, and Andrew?” Bender calls.

Andy stops and turns to him.

“Yeah?”

“Think about the question,” he says.

Andy doesn’t know what to do, so he nods. Then he turns on his heel and leaves. He thinks about the question all the way home.

❀ ❀ ❀ 

“It still surprises me that Bender is your last name,” says Andy. 

Bender chuckles. 

“Yeah, I don’t think John ever suited me. Especially teenage me,” he looks at Andy “you can call me John, you know. We’re friends now.”

They really are friends now. Surprisingly, they had a lot to talk about. They discovered a mutual love of terrible action movies, which lead to passionate discussions of the hidden agenda of Top Gun, which in turn lead to Bender inviting him over to watch The Terminator after learning Andy had never seen it (invited is a very loose term. Bender was likely to have tied Andy to a chair to get him to watch it if need be), and all of that had somehow filtered out into Andy dropping by between lessons and lunches eaten together in Bender’s classroom. 

Today was one such day, Bender’s essays to be graded long forgotten in favour of conversation (Cayley got an A. Despite a missing period, Andy noticed). The silence was no longer uncomfortable.

“John, huh? It might take some getting used to. Makes you sound like an old geezer rotting away behind a desk.”

“That sounds about right, then.”

Andy laughs.

“You can call me Andy, then. You’re the only one who still calls me Andrew.”

Bender (yes, Bender, because goddammit he would always be that roguish teenager somewhere in Andy’s mind) gives him a lopsided grin. 

“I like feeling special, Andrew.” 

He's charming, Andy supposed. And kind. Andy can’t see why he has trouble finding relationships; he seems like the kind of guy women would throw themselves at.

On his way back to the gymnasium, Andy finds himself with a few minutes to spare. Not quite knowing where he's going, he wanders throughout the school, catching snatches of conversation from classrooms as he passes. He doesn’t know where his feet are taking him until he ends up in a familiar library. There is still a terrible statue watching over the rows of desks. There is still the same dated light fixtures. He looks around, a melancholy smile on his face. He runs his finger along one of the desks, which might not have been changed since the 80s. 

“It gets better from here on,” he whispers to himself in an empty room. 

❀ ❀ ❀ 

It was a bitterly cold March. Bender trudged up to the school, jacket pulled tight and scarf nearly obscuring his face. He opened the school doors, stomped off the invisible dirt from his shoes, and was met by a burst of surprised laughter. He looked up. There was Andy, leaning against a table.

“What?” Bender grumbled.

“That’s the exact same coat.” 

Bender looked down at his coat in confusion. Then realization donned on him and he threw back his head and laughed.

“It is! God, I can’t believe I still own this thing.”

“Me neither.”

A pause.

“So what are you doing here so early?” Bender asked as he unwound his scarf from his neck.

“Actually, it’s a surprise.”

Bender removed his hat and shook out his hair.

“A surprise, huh? Well, now you’ve piqued my curiosity.” 

“Don’t worry. You won’t have to wait long.”

Bender threw off his coat and let it fall to the ground with a sigh of relief. Then he bent down and picked it up once more. 

“How long is not long?” “You know how there’s a field trip for the 12s?”

Bender started to unbutton the thick cardigan he was wearing underneath his jacket. “Yeah?”

“Meet me in the library as soon as your class is gone.” 

Bender watched Andy in confusion—fingers stilled in their unbuttoning—as Andy walked away with a self-satisfied smile on his face. 

Bender was in the library, and there was no-one to be seen. He absently picked at the frayed edge of his cardigan (that he’d ended up putting back on mere moments after he took it off). He heard the door open and looked up, but it was clear Andy was trying to be sneaky, so he looked back down. He smiled to himself as he heard Andy swear. Suddenly, a vaguely familiar guitar riff kicked in. Bender looked up. There was Andy, grinning like a madman, a ‘90s looking cassette player beside him, and Karla DeVito’s “We Are Not Alone” blasting out of it as loud as the speakers would allow. Bender looked at him quizzically. Then, Andy began to dance. Well, more like awkwardly sway back and forth with random arm movements, but Bender got the drift. 

He stood, rolling his eyes. Andy danced towards him, swaying his arms above his head like a deflating tube man. Bender stood still, smiling at Andy’s ridiculous movements. 

“Come on, dance!” Andy said, goofy grin still on his face.

“I’m trying to hold on to some sense of dignity.”

Bender still let himself be dragged along when Andy grabbed the sleeves of his cardigan and began to pull him along. Bender gave in, swaying slightly in time with the music, and Andy’s grin seemed to get even brighter and goofier. Bender supposed it was worth it to hear Andy’s crazed laughter when he tossed his hair back and forth like he remembered being so fond of doing as a teen. Andy noticed that Bender still had a tiny gold stud in his right ear. 

They danced terribly. Atrociously. Embarrassingly. For ages. And neither of them found it in themselves to give a shit. Karla DeVito really didn’t write much else that was any good. The cassette finished (both sides, mind you. It involved a lot of swearing on Andy’s part to get it to rewind) and the two found themselves laying on the carpeted floor of the library, laughing too hard to speak. Eventually, they regained their breath. 

“Why… why did you do that,” Bender asked, still slightly out of breath.

“You said you liked to feel special.”

Bender laughed abruptly.

“You know that’s not what I meant,”

“Yeah, I know.”

Bender turned his head to look at his friend. He didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes was enough for Andy. Bender’s eyes tracked quickly to Andy’s lips before he could stop himself. Andy pretended not to notice. He spoke before it could get too emotional.

“So, missing not coming to prom so you couldn’t see my amazing dance moves?” Andy asked.

Bender shook his head and laughed, looking back up at the ceiling.

“I do regret not going to prom. Though I’m pretty sure I would have gotten stoned to death if I showed up. Or at least a lot of icy glares from Claire and her posse.” 

“What happened there? Like, sure, you broke up, but why did she hate you so much?”

Bender gave Andy a disbelieving look. He paused.

“you never heard the rumours?”

“There were a lot of rumours about you,” Andy said with a smile.  
“That I was gay.”

That stopped Andy short. He gave a nervous laugh. Bender looked at him, deadpan. Any thoughts that Bender was joking died on their way to Andy’s consciousness. 

“Uh, well, I thought they were just… you know. Rumours.”

“Claire caught me cheating on her with another guy, Andrew.”

Andy thought he may have stopped breathing. He sat up. 

“Seriously?”

Bender nodded. He slowly sat up, staring Andy dead in the eye. Andy continued. 

“Oh. Uh, well… that explains… a lot.”

Bender raised his eyebrows. Andy gulped.

“Are you uh… are you out? Here?”

“Why do you care, Andrew.”

“I’m just asking!” He said defensively. Dead, uncomfortable silence. Bender looked away. Andy took a moment, then spoke, “I don’t… I don’t care, you know.” He said more gently, “Uh, thanks for telling me.” 

Bender looked at him, full of snark.

“Thank you, Andrew. Your approval means so much to me,” he said sarcastically.

Andy could see 17-year-old Bender again. Terrified, and covering that with a thin veneer confidence and biting wit. Silence.

“Sorry.” Bender finally spat out, “I’m still… I’m still not used to this.” 

“It’s okay.” 

A beat of silence.

“God, we were such fucking assholes in high school,” Andy said suddenly, having no idea where it came from. 

Bender looked back over at him. 

“Yeah. Yeah, we were.”  
Something moved inside of Andy. That feeling in the pit of his stomach. It stretched and writhed for a moment, before coming to rest in Andy’s chest.

“Wanna dance some more?” He asked. 

❀ ❀ ❀ 

Since Bender’s coming out, something had changed for Andy. He tried not to let it show. He still met him for lunches and talked between classes, but something inexplicable had shifted. He started to get an idea when he was listening to Bender talk animatedly about this movie he saw and his hands were moving frantically and his eyes glinted in the sunlight, and Andy noticed all of those things and that feeling all coiled up in his chest stirred. 

Bender had had an extensive list of boyfriends. Andy learned this one night, over pizza and drinks that they’d bought to celebrate Andy making it to spring break. Bender was laughing, the laughter he only did sometimes when he was too happy or too intoxicated to care. Andy was laughing too, but mostly he was fascinated by Bender. According to Bender, if you know the right people who know the right places, you could have a rather vibrant sex life even outside of the confines of heteronormativity. His exact words. Andy remembered that Bender actually was an English teacher. Though most of them didn’t want a long term relationship. Until Greg. 

Greg, the one that Bender had dated for five years. Greg, who dumped him one night and didn’t say why, but Bender bitterly recounted tales of wandering interest that only seemed apparent after the fact. Greg, who left Bender without a place to stay and no visible remorse. Greg, who’s list of flaws Bender could now probably recount for hours. Greg, who Andy was finding himself unwarrantedly mad at. 

They were probably more than a little tipsy at this point, which neither of them knew quite when. The place they were at was within walking distance from Andy’s apartment, so they weren’t too worried. Plus, Bender seemed like he badly needed to talk to someone. Bender was still talking, though less animatedly. Andy—not knowing what came over him—slid his leg along the tiny booth they were sharing until it made contact with Bender’s. Andy watched him. Bender gave a slight start and glanced at him, but kept talking. The emotion curled up in Andy’s chest stretched a little. Andy moved his leg slightly, in a way that could seem accidental. He made sure to keep his face impassive. 

They stumbled back to Any’s apartment, not so much smashed as pretending to be. It wasn't that late, but they weren’t that young. Andy insisted Bender take his bed, though Bender (to his credit) gave a good fight. For a minute there, Andy thought they might end up sharing a bed just out of a politeness standoff. Eventually, Bender agreed. Andy slumped off to find some extra blankets. He fell asleep still thinking about Greg, turning this empty anger over and over again in his mind. 

The dream is what set it in for Andy. It started normally, just him and Bender sitting in Bender’s class, talking about nothing in that sort of dream-like babble. Bender leaned against a wall, gesturing with one hand while the other was shoved in his pocket, telling some story Andy couldn’t remember. It was in one of those pauses Andy loved—the ones that seemed to be the real sign of confidence—when Andy (dream Andy) stood and what had been an entire classroom moments before was now simply nothing more than a closet. In a moment that lasted a very long, gauzy second, Bender looked at Andy and gave him that same smarmy smirk. Then Andy kissed him. Of course, Bender kissed him back. It was Andy’s dream after all, and he got to pull the strings. Except Andy didn’t have a reference for what kissing Bender would be like, so it all ended up kind of blank, until they both melted into consciousness. 

Andy woke up hard and restless. He sighed, his back killing him from a night on the couch. He groaned as he sat up. His bones protested. He trudged off to the bathroom for a shower. Afterwards, he felt more refreshed, but there was a weight on his shoulders that hadn’t been there before.

He left the bathroom in just a towel, since the clothes he fell asleep in were disgusting, and everything else was in the room Bender was still sleeping in. Bender was standing in the doorway. He gave a great yawn, stretching his arms over his head. Andy noticed the tiny strip of skin above his waistband. Almost immediately, Andy flicked his eyes back up to Bender’s face. As he did, he caught Bender’s gaze darting away. Andy almost wanted to tell him to look. Though he wasn’t missing much, in Andy’s opinion. Flabby body and a sad old man inhabiting it.

Andy made breakfast. They didn’t quite drink enough for much of a hangover, but Andy made them the greasiest food he could manage. It felt almost domestic. No matter how hard he tried, Andy still couldn’t help but think of the dream. Whenever he looked at Bender, seeming so soft and almost vulnerable, everything came crashing back. 

Bender left around noon, in the clothes he arrived in. Andy offered some of his. Bender had laughed him off, saying they weren't quite at that level yet, and plus, Andy had terrible fashion sense. Andy was still tossing around the dream in his mind when he waved Bender goodbye. 

He sat on his couch for a very long time after that. Just staring at the wall. 

He ended up getting a book from the library. He didn’t know what else to do. It was embarrassing and took way to long to find something, but he did it. He spent the rest of the day reading through it. He found the word “bisexual” at around 5 pm when he should be making dinner. He ordered in. As he continued to read, something felt like it clicked. Well, maybe ‘clicked’ was the wrong word. More like something he didn't know he was missing was added to the junk pile of things that made up Andy. 

It was Saturday. He spent all of Sunday thinking about Bender and trying to ignore his problems. The word kept coming back to him. So did a million other little moments. There was this one guy, Davie, who he knew from a competition. There was always a kind of tension between them, but Andy wrote it off as just wanting to win. Man, did he want to win. Especially when it came to Davie. Now, looking back, it was kinda embarrassingly obvious that there was something else going on for both of them.

❀ ❀ ❀ 

Andy woke up early Monday morning. Not of his own accord, but he’d tossed and turned all night and finally woke up around 5 and decided that was good enough. He made a nice breakfast and a cup of strong coffee. He considered going to work early, but decided to instead make a stop at a coffee shop and read for a bit. He’d picked up a copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray while he was at the library. It was just sitting there, right as he meant to leave. It seemed like an omen. 

The coffee shop he chose was edging between cozy and cramped, and it was almost unbearably trendy, but there were comfy armchairs and almost no one there. The woman behind the counter seemed a little dead, but she smiled at Andy nonetheless. He bought two donuts. 

The book was well-loved, the silver peacock feathers emblazoned on the front were more of a grey at this point, and the spine was barely holding itself together. Honestly, it was a tedious read. Andy hardly made it past the first chapter before ending up just staring into the distance. Just before he decided to leave, he flipped absently through the pages, landing on a random one and scanning it, just to feel like he got somewhere. 

“To define is to limit”. He read. He smiled to himself. For a reason he couldn’t quite articulate he felt a little like crying. 

He arrived still with a good amount of time to spare and dropped by Bender’s classroom. He wasn’t there. Andy cursed himself. He tapped his fingers on a nearby desk, running his hand through his hair. 

"What am I doing," he said to himself. 

He shook his head, then turned to leave. There, in the doorway, was Bender. 

“Hey,” Bender said, smiling. He seemed a little weirded out by Andy’s presence, but didn't bring it up.

“Hey. Sorry, I, uh. Couldn’t sleep. I got here early,”

“And decided to wait… in here?”

“I thought maybe... you’d be early.”

Bender smiled, something kind of bashful. He got this way whenever Andy complimented him. Well, not whenever. More like when Andy complimented him in a way that was a little too earnest. Wordlessly, Andy handed him one of the donuts. Bender grinned and nodded his head in thanks.

“I… uh, started reading the Picture of Dorian Gray,” Andy said.

Bender’s ears seemed to perk up, even as he took a huge bite out of the donut.

“Yeah? What do you think about it?” He asked with his mouth full. 

Andy shrugged.

“It’s good.”

“You hate it don’t you.”

Andy laughed.

“Maybe a little.”

“Yeah, it's a tedious read, but that’s just my life. Reading tedious books.” 

Silence.

“You do anything else with your weekend?” Andy asked

“No, nothing really. My life seems to be pretty bland these days. I need something spectacular, and soon, or I’m just going to turn into dust.” Bender sighed with a smile, taking another bite of the donut for emphasis, “Thanks for this, by the way.” 

The smile was so clearly empty that it almost hurt Andy. 

❀ ❀ ❀ 

Bender watched Andy’s class. Since it was so nice they were all outside; the kids were even more rambunctious without the confines of a gymnasium. It was an after school thing that the art teacher usually taught, but she was away so Andy stepped in for. Andy mostly just let the kids run around in the field and made sure no one set anything on fire. Eventually, people seemed bored, so Andy set up a game of soccer that ended up dissolving into madness quickly, but he realized he genuinely liked teaching the kids when they didn't hate the idea of being active. There weren’t too many after school sports at Shermer, which was fine by Andy. Since the identity thieving gym teacher had left, there were even less. Also fine by Andy. Once the game was almost entirely just the kids messing around, Bender caught his eye.

Andy jogged over, smiling. Bender was sitting on the bleachers by the side of the field, his feet up and leaning back at such a severe angle his head was still tucked into his chest. A pair of aviator sunglasses rested low on his nose.

“You lost?” He asks as Andy approaches.

Andy grins.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Bender shifts so he’s sitting normally and pushes his sunglasses back through his hair. The sunlight glints on his eyes.

“You’re a good teacher,” Bender says. Its clearly a statement, but Andy chooses to argue.

“Not really. I’m just letting them do whatever they want. I mean, look at me. I’m not even supervising them,” Andy tosses a glance over his shoulder at the thought. No one is on fire. He looks back. 

“Exactly,” Bender pauses, “sometimes, the best things happen when you stop trying to force them,” Bender gestures with his chin towards the kids. Andy looks back. 

They have set up a game of kick the can, and are currently focused with a razor precision most teachers would probably tear up at the sight of. Andy looks again at Bender. Bender is smiling slightly.

“You’re pretty wise, Yoda,” says Andy

“A genius, I am. Appreciated, I am not.”

Andy laughs. Silence. Bender inhales in that way that says he’s about to leave, but Andy isn’t quite ready for him to go just yet. 

“Oh, um, there’s been something I’ve been meaning to ask you about,” Andy says.

Bender raises his eyebrows and settles back onto the bleachers. Andy has no idea what he’s been meaning to ask him about. Quickly, he pulls the falling-apart copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray from the pocket of his coat tied around his waist. He flips to a random page. He scans it until he finds a paragraph that seems to work. 

“I, uh, was wondering… I don’t really get this, this bit.” Andy almost murmurs, quickly scanning the paragraph he’s reading for the first time, “I was hoping for your, uh, literary opinion.”

Bender happily takes the book from Andy and begins to read the portion Andy points at. His brow is furrowed in concentration. Andy sits down beside him. He wants to sit closer, but he leaves a decently respectable distance between the two. Suddenly, Bender smiles.

“I know this part. It’s my favourite line.”

He closes the book, keeping his thumb marking the page. He closes his eyes.

“It is quite true that I have worshipped you with far more romance of feeling than a man usually gives to a friend. Somehow, I have never loved a woman. I suppose I never had time,” Bender opens his eyes, looking up at Andy with a coy smile. It’s just intense enough to be a little uncomfortable. He continues to recite, “I quite admit that I adored you madly, extravagantly, absurdly,” a pause of sharp silence, “I was jealous of everyone to whom you spoke. I wanted to have you all to myself.” He stops.

Still smiling faintly, he searches Andy’s face. It seems abnormally quiet on the field. The sunlight casts golden shadows on Bender’s face.

Andy breaks the moment by coughing and looking back at the kids still happily playing kick the can. When he looks back, he realizes they had moved closer during the reading, since Bender has shifted backwards so he’s just leaning on one hand and the space feels much larger than before. Bender looks almost chagrined. 

“Uh, yeah. That. What do you think it, um, means?” Andy asks.

Bender looks up, thinking.

“I think it means that Basil loves him. Despite who he was.”

❀ ❀ ❀ 

“Ready to get destroyed, Clark?” Bender says, dribbling terribly. 

“I don’t know, Bender. I don’t think you can beat this.” Andy says, shuffling towards him like a very gangly orangutang.

It’s late after school was out (Bender stayed behind to finish some grading, and Andy decided to wait for him) and a basketball had been left lying about. Andy hardly had time to react before bender was chucking the ball at him, laughing. So far the match was 1 Bender 0 Clark, but that was because Bender had got the first basket before Andy could raise the net. They shuffled around each other, neither of them knowing what they were doing, other than they saw it on T.V. Bender faked to his right, then dodged to his left, circling around Andy with the ball barely under his control. He stopped just short of the net, shot, and had it bounce right of the backboard. He attempted to catch it again, but Andy was faster, grabbing it from him and booking it down the court. 

Andy may not have been a basketball player, but he sure as hell was competitive in school. He stopped at what he vaguely thought was the three-point line, bent his knees, released, and shot the ball neatly into the hoop. He almost pumped his fists into the air, but Bender was just far enough to the side that Andy could swoop in and grab the ball for a second shot. It rolled once, twice, around the rim, hobbled for a second, then fell right through the net. Andy did a victory dance. Bender just watched him, a fond smile on his face.

“I don’t think I can beat that,” said Bender.

“How does defeat taste?”

Bender rolled his eyes and playfully shoved Andy, who body-checked him back. They both laughed. Andy rolled the ball along the ground, letting it stop at the wall. Someone else’s problem. The two walked along the hallway in silence. 

“You up for victory pizza?” Asked Bender

“I’m always up for pizza.”

Victory pizza tasted even better than regular pizza, Andy decided. Bender regaled him with more stories of his youth, while Andy countered with tales of his crazy exes. Neither of them knew how they got on the topic of what had changed since high school, but it was a welcome memory. 

“Oh god,” Bender laughed “did I really say that? I was such a fucking asshole.”

“Well, it seems fair, looking back.”  
They both glance at the white, oval-shaped scar on Bender’s upper arm. Andy noticed his shoulders were surprisingly toned.

“Yeah, still doesn't mean it’s not embarrassing.” 

“What made you change?” 

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you could have just as easily ended up in a trucker hat and ill-fitting jeans, drinking beer and watching football while wishing your life was anything but the way it is.” 

“I guess I got tired of being an asshole. What made you change, huh sporto? You had equal chance of ending up some stuck up jerk with a wall full of trophies, denying to himself that he peaked in high school.” 

Andy thought for a moment. 

“I got tired of living for my old man. That was the beginning. When I busted my knee, it was like I’d been waiting my whole life just for some excuse to not do it anymore. There it was. My excuse. I had two options from there, and I guess I chose reformation.” 

Bender gives him a smile that looks almost flirty in the dim lighting.

“A shame our parents never got together for bowling or something.”

“Imagine that disaster. I kind of wish we’d stayed friends after that whole detention thing. We were so alike.”

“Well, I mean, I don't think anyone is harder on yourself than you are. It’s no wonder you’d hate a carbon copy.” 

“Yeah, but it would have been nice to not feel so alone for once.”

Bender smiled again.

“We’re together now. And frankly,” he paused, smile turning playful, “you’re stuck with me.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

❀ ❀ ❀ 

When Andy arrives at Bender’s classroom after school’s out, he’s greeted by dead silence and a note on Bender’s desk. Bender had whispered conspiratorially to Andy in the time between classes “English room, 6 pm, don’t be late” and Andy had just enough time to have his brain go in a multitude of entirely inappropriate directions before giving Bender a smile in acknowledgement. 

The note is bright yellow. It has the word “Andrew” written in block letters. Andy thinks it is safe to assume it's for him. He opens it. In writing that could be easily mistaken for the font on the cover of a romance novel—soft, loopy handwriting that Bender genuinely did write in naturally— are the words “back of the door”. 

Attached by a piece of tape on the back of the door is another note. “Artroom”, it reads.

The art room isn’t far. The note stands out, despite the wild specks of paint all over the tables. Andy knows the drill by now. “Library” is the only word. Andy rolls his eyes. Then he smiles. Looks like he'll be here a while. 

After ping-ponging his way from room to room, Andy slowly makes his way to the main doors. There is one yellow note taped against the blue doors, reading “field”. Andy grabs the note and walks outside. The sun is just barely starting to set, and the light is golden and gorgeous. The shadows cast warmly on the grass of the field. He was feeling nostalgic that morning, so he wore the old letterman jacket that’s seen better days; he stuffs the note in its pocket now. Bender is there, just standing in the middle field. Clearly, the nostalgia was mutual, as Bender is wearing the long tweed coat despite the warmth of the evening. Andy raises his hand in greeting. Bender waves back. The moment is just a bit weird as Bender watches Andy approach, and Andy almost considers jogging, but somehow that would make it even weirder so he just sighs and takes his time.

Bender is grinning by time Andy is close enough to clearly tell. Andy gives him a look that’s so full of warmth Bender feels like looking away, but he doesn’t, so they’re left with slightly weird eye contact. 

“Care to take a walk?” Bender asks.

Andy offers his arm as though they’re going to go skipping through the field together. 

He quickly realizes how strange the action is, but Bender sarcastically links his arm with Andy’s, and Andy realizes that Bender is just enough taller than him that it made this motion awkward. Bender raises his eyebrows, the corner of his mouth quirking up. 

“Lead the way, Dorothy,” Bender says sardonically. Andy rolls his eyes. Bender steers the two of them towards the edge of the field.

Andy and Bender walk for a few seconds in peaceful quiet before Andy says

“Does that make you a friend of Dorothy?” Bender’s laugh is loud and sudden. Andy grins.

“Are we at the point where you can make gay jokes about me?”

Andy shrugs, but it’s a sort of one-armed motion because his other one is still linked to Bender. 

“Are we?”

“Why are we talking only in questions?”

“I don’t know?”

Bender rolls his eyes.

“I’ll allow that one. Since it was funny.” He says. They walk in companionable silence.  
;  
❀ ❀ ❀ 

There is a river some ways away from Shermer. Along that river is a paved path. If you go along said paved path for long enough until you reach a weirdly bent tree, there is another, smaller, definitely not paved path. This path rambles along until under trees until it comes to a small clearing, by a not very peacefully running bit of river, but the babbling is nice, and it works for Bender’s purposes. Something feels almost Victorian about the way the two are walking, arms still linked, the sun setting, and Bender’s long coat swishing in the light breeze. 

Bender had had a long time to prepare in the two hours. Not only were the notes made up, but here in this little clearing by the river, were two camping chairs, a folding table, and an ice cooler. He watched Andy's reaction. Andy grinned at the whimsy of it all. Bender dramatically gestured to the setup.

“Welcome, to my most opulent creation.”

Andy laughed.

“Why?” He asked. 

“Because you’re always doing stuff for me,” shrugged Bender, “and I had some time to kill.”

The last statement allows them to ignore the amount of effort that has clearly been put in. 

The cooler was full to the brim of terrible beer, and conversation really started flowing once that changed. 

Andy felt the tension simmering between them, but tried to ignore it. Bender was clearly in a good mood, and so Andy was too. Something felt like it was kindling in the air. Andy got bolder as the night wore on. He got no more than a questioning glance every time, but nothing more.

“Did you ever think you were gay, Andrew?”

The question comes out of the blue, but really, what does it even matter anymore.

“Well…” Andy starts slowly, deliberately, “you’d think I would have figured it out, with all the… rolling on mats with other guys thing in high school.” His statement isn’t that funny, but Bender cracks up all the same. Andy, emboldened by this reaction, continues.

“How did… how did you know?”

“that I was gay?”  
“Yeah. That.”

Bender thinks for a moment.

“It just got… hard to ignore after a while. There’s only so many times you can watch Rocky before you realize there’s something a little more than it just being a good movie.” 

Now it’s Andy’s turn to crack up. 

“Why, you wondering?” Asks Bender, and it’s clearly a joke that Andy’s meant to brush off, but Andy’s inhibitions are lowered and Bender looks really fucking good in this light so he speaks anyways. 

“Maybe a little,” 

Bender’s eyebrows shoot up at that. Andy keeps talking. 

“I never even thought… well, I was never in the kind of environment to think about it and with the whole… you thing now I’m just… anyways. Was it easy? Once you figured it out?”

That seems to take Bender by surprise.

“I never really thought about it that way. If it was easy or not…” he starts, 

“You know, it’s like, you question what love even means anymore. All you’ve ever seen is this one way of being, this one way to, to love a person, and suddenly you’re… not that. And you’ve been told you’re gonna end up tragic and dead and alone if you even sort of don’t conform and,“ Bender gave a self-deprecating chuckle, “I don’t want to die tragic and alone. Really, I’d like a nice house, or, hell, a nice apartment, something made of brick, like—“

Before he knew what he was doing, Andy leaned forward and kissed him.

There was a shocked moment of nothing moving. Even the river seemed to still. Then, Benders hand on Andy’s chest, not to pull him closer, but to gently push him away. There was a deep, aching hurt in Bender’s eyes that wasn’t there before. 

“Did you mean that?” Asked Bender.

Andy’s eyes were something reminiscent of a deer in the headlights, not so much a deer on the highway, but more like if the deer had been minding its business in a field when a car suddenly came charging through. 

“Yes. No. Uh,” Andy swallowed loudly “Maybe? I-“

“Don’t,” Bender whispered softly.

Andy wanted to say something, anything, but his voice wouldn’t work.

“I’m not an experiment,” Bender continued, so much quieter than he had ever been before, “And I’m not something to be pitied.” 

Soundlessly, Bender stood and walked off into the night. 

Andy sat, motionless for a moment. Then he sighed angrily and put his head in his hands. 

He sat like that for a long time.

❀ ❀ ❀ 

The impersonal politeness hurt more than if Bender seemed angry. Andy got a tight-lipped smile when he tried to catch his eye, a brief nod and then his eyes moved away. Bender moved past him like he didn’t exist. Andy was struck by how different he was than the Bender he knew in high school. That Bender would be full of threats and explosive anger; this Bender was full of silence. This goes on for two days before Andy can’t take it anymore. 

“Hey, uh, Cayley, right?”

The student whirls around. Andy smiles at her, hoping he’s not being creepy. She nods skeptically. 

“Yeah.”

“You’ve got English with Bender this afternoon, yeah?”

“Yeah…” she hugs her textbook closer to her chest.

“Could I ask a favour? I just need a note delivered.”

She tilts her head at him, reminding Andy very much of his grandmother's Bichon Shih Tzu dog who hated Andy’s guts. 

“Um… okay.”

Andy smiles genuinely.

“Thank you.” 

He hands her the note (yellow paper and Andy's best handwriting) and she awkwardly nods and continues down the hallway. Andy cringes at himself.

Despite everything, Bender shows up. He’s there, 4 pm, looking around like he’s not sure what to expect. Andy is sitting high up on the bleachers; why will soon become apparent. He wrings his hands together, pursing his lips. Briefly, he considers running away to Seattle and changing his name to Reginald. But he’s come all this way, and Bender is still standing in the field, looking around in mild confusion. Andy takes a deep breath. He presses play on the cassette player. 

Bender’s head snaps around almost immediately as soon as the first beat of drums ring out. He looks up at where Andy is now standing. His expression is unreadable. Andy begins to walk down towards him. He doesn’t quite know why he chose the song, but somehow it seems to work. Brings back a 1980s feeling he couldn’t quite encapsulate any other way. He feels, momentarily, like a teenager again. It’s a good feeling. He lets a bit of that old swagger back into his steps. Bender is still looking at him in confusion, and, Andy is sure, just a tiny bit of fondness. 

There are a lot more stairs to the bleachers than Andy remembers. Finally, finally, he reaches Bender and puts the cassette player down. There’s a moment of weird quiet before Andy realizes the music is too loud to talk and he turns it down, a bashful smile on his face.

“You a Simple Minds fan?” Asks Bender. It’s not much, but at least he’s talking to him.

Andy shrugs.

“I don’t know, I thought you might like it.”

Bender raises his eyebrows. There’s still something sad behind his eyes, but Andy feels like he has a chance.

Awkward silence.

“I uh… didn’t really think of what I’d say after this,” Andy says. The song is still playing, still seeming a little too loud, “it always works better in the movies…" he stops. "It always looks so… exciting, I guess, when the main guy is racing against traffic to get to the airport, or, like, he’s standing outside the apartment in the rain with roses. This just seems… weird.” 

Andy shrugs. Bender’s lip quirks up. “But... life isn’t a rom-com. It's just... one damn thing after another. It isn’t perfect, or easy, or even pretty. Life... kinda sucks. But... I- I’ve gone my whole life denying what I wanted. And I think... I’ve finally figured it out. You asked me, at the beginning of the year, ‘what do you want.’ And I…” Andy sighs. Bender’s face is still mostly impassive. Andy shifts uncomfortably, an awkward blush creeping on to his face. “Are you gonna make me say it?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Andy sighs, rolls his eyes, and looks up to the sky.

“I want you, Bender. If you’ll… if you’ll have me.”

Nothing. Painful, painful nothing.

Then,

A chuckle.

Andy looks down from where his gaze has been fixed on the sky. Bender is laughing. 

“‘If you’ll have me?’ What romance novel did you hear that in, Clark?” He shakes his head, smiling.

Andy clearly doesn’t know what to do, so Bender rolls his eyes.

“Kiss me.” He says.

Andy is more than happy to oblige. 

It is, by all accounts, a very, very good kiss. Bender breaks away after a moment, and Andy pouts slightly. Bender smiles at him, brings his hand up to touch Andy’s cheek. It is a really, really awesome moment, Andy thinks, and for no reason, they’re both laughing. The song still plays. 

“You, uh… you doing anything later?” Andy laughs

“Rather presumptuous of you,” Bender smiles back, pressing another light kiss to Andy’s lips. 

“Not like that,” Andy grins “like, as in… want to eat popcorn with way too much butter and watch a terrible action movie?” 

“It’s Thursday.”

“We are going to the same place on Friday.”

“You drive a hard bargain…” Bender says and kisses him again. 

Andy is pretty sure that’s a yes. 

❀ ❀ ❀ 

Bender stays the night. Nothing happens, it just seems weird to have him head back now, and so they fall asleep together, both laughing at the newness of it all. This means Andy has a brief moment of disorientation when his alarm goes off and there’s someone beside him. They always say that in movies, don’t they. “He had a brief moment where he didn’t know where he was”. It wasn’t like that. It was more like, for a fraction of a second, Andy thought it was too good to be true. Just another dream; but it wasn’t, and Bender was waking up beside him and all seemed right with the world. 

“Hey,” Bender says, voice groggy with sleep.

“Hi,” says Andy.

Andy thought it would be weird. It’s not. They get up, Andy finds an extra toothbrush, breakfast is made and coffee is had. Bender borrows one of Andy’s shirts out of necessity, since it seems it would be even weirder for him to show up in the clothes from the day before than to show up in the gym teacher’s shirt. Andy is worried someone will notice, but Bender just rolls his eyes.

“Andy, they’re high schoolers. They’re all narcissists.” 

If they notice the name change, neither mention it. 

❀ ❀ ❀ 

After classes finish, Bender decides to take a walk instead of heading home right away. He takes a shortcut through the field on his way. There’s a spring in his step that hasn’t been there for ages, and a smile on his face that almost feels out of place. He’s not one to believe that a romantic relationship is going to fix all his problems, but he’s also not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He can philosophize over it later. Right now, he just wants to enjoy the bliss. 

He doesn’t know why he does it, but as he’s walking, knowing there’s no one around and knowing it’s stupid, he pumps his fist in the air in a silent victory. 

Things are looking up.

**Author's Note:**

> This goes out to my friend Q, who will never get to read it, but was the one who heavily encouraged (read: bribed) me into creating something for these two, which in turn led to this monstrosity. Thanks for enabling my weirdness. 
> 
> Shoutout to my friend Ann, who will also never get to read this. Thanks to her for being my beta and for not saying anything when I gave her a piece of writing that was clearly just breakfast club fanfiction with the names changed. 
> 
> I don't actually know how being a high school teacher would work, my apologies.
> 
> Title is from Bruce Springsteen's 'Thunder Road' for no reason other than it gives me Vibes™. 
> 
> Constructive criticism welcomed.


End file.
